


Colors of Paradise

by thecrisspointssystem



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Body Image, Car Sex, F/M, Reader-Insert, because i love musicals and i miss working in theatre, dfab, i h a t e summaries, this town was based off of a musical called the spitfire grill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5043778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrisspointssystem/pseuds/thecrisspointssystem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious drifter moves to your town and catches your eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors of Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> The anon who requested this fic asked for a Stan x chubby!reader fic. This fic will talk (briefly, but it's an aspect of it) about body image issues. The reader is intended to be chubby/overweight/curvy/whatever the term. I'm not the best when talking about body image politics, but being chubby/overweight myself, I based this off of my own experiences and insecurities. If the topic of body image is triggering for you, this is your warning. This fic also includes a sex scene towards the end.

Being the store manager of a family owned hardware store was strange. You personally weren’t a tool master, but the owner was absent often and only kept this store because their late parents left it to them. They said liked your “can-do” attitude either way. Gilead, being a small town, allowed your store to have a monopoly, which led to steady business and typically non-specific questions about projects from customers. Practically being your own boss had its benefits. One major perk about being the manager was that you were the one who hired new help. **  
**

So when this fine specimen walked through your door asking if you were hiring, you nearly gave him the job on sight.

Stan Pendelton was his name. He had at least a good five inches on you, unruly brown hair that was bordering mullet length, and chocolate brown eyes you could melt in. He had a jawline was so strong you could sit on it. He was soft around the edges, with a well defined stomach that you wanted to nest in.  _Perfect_ , you noted when he first arrived. He was humble, saying he was grateful to be given a position on the staff. You mentally noted that there were other positions you wanted to put him in. A part of you wondered what a man like this wanted from a town like Gilead. From his first day, he worked harder than any employee you’d had before. It was only the two of you on the staff currently. He volunteered for all of the heavy lifting, tried to learn any answers to any potential questions a customer could have and was willing to work through his lunch hour. He rarely made eye contact, something that stumped you considering he had to look down to even address you.

“You don’t have to work so hard,” you said to him one day as he restocked the screwdriver sets. He was kneeling on the floor, counting the inventory and double checking that it aligned with your log. He looked up at you, making eye contact for probably one of the first times in the two weeks that you’ve worked with him. He gave a shy smile.

“I’m just trying to stay humble, boss. Like I said before, I’m grateful for this job,” he replied before returning back to the log. You rolled your eyes. It was his second week on the job, and since he arrived, he nearly made your presence obsolete.

“I told you to call me by my name, Stan,” you corrected, to which he nodded politely. You smiled to yourself. He was too cute. Whenever he worked on inventory, he had a strained and concentrated face that nearly made you giggle. Like clockwork, he wiped his brow after any heavy lifting, which for some reason caused you to internally swoon. He let his stubble grow, only seeming to bother to shave once every week or so. One part of you wanted to jump his bones there and then. He was handsome, a newcomer to your town. He had a mysterious drifter vibe to him. Gossip went around, but it was easy to ignore. Local nobodies had nothing better to do with their time than make up horrible rumors. You were curious of his past, wanting to get to know everything about this handsome stranger, but whenever you asked him about himself, he blushed and brushed it aside, asking you about the town he now resided. You told him what you could, the words escaping you, and instead offered to show him around sometime. He declined the first couple of times you offered, saying that you were “too kind”, but he wasn’t ready to explore just yet. You told him about how beautiful Gilead was with the change of the seasons. Fall was upon you, and the colors of paradise were amongst you. You mentioned how stunning the views of the woods were from the park and offered again to show him. Weeks had passed since the first time you mentioned it. He accepted your offer this time, saying that he’d only go if you would go to dinner with him beforehand.

“What?” You never considered this option.

“I said that I’d love to go to McArthur Park with you, but only if you…go to dinner with me first,” he said, slowing his speech with each word. He rubbed his neck nervously. You nearly looked at him like he was crazy. You were honest with yourself. You were chubby, on the bigger side, curvy, whatever the phrase you wanted to go with. Your body type was a part of your identity. One that you never acknowledged really as a defining trait for you, but you always subconsciously felt that it limited you; romantically, for example. Your weight always felt like a factor. Men were shallower than they admitted and you felt insecure about it and never opened yourself up to dating much because of it. So for this adorable stranger to offer this to you was just baffling.

“Excuse me?” you asked, a tone of surprise in your voice.

“I asked if you’d go to dinner with me,” he said, rubbing his neck. “I-I’m not gonna get fired over this, am I?” he asked with worried eyes after a moment of silence. You gave him a more confused look, and shook yourself mentally.  _He’s asking you out. Don’t ruin this by scaring him,_  you thought to yourself quickly before telling him that his job was secure and that you’d love to go to dinner. Thursday night? That’d be lovely.

Dinner dates always stressed you out mentally. You were afraid of eating too fast, too slow, of looking like a slob, of appearing too this or that. It didn’t look like the stress was one sided. Stan reached his hand out for yours after ordering the entrees, nearly knocking over his glass in the process, making him wince. You felt his foot under the table at one point, and when you looked up to see if he was up for a game of footsie, he was blushing and his eyes were shut tight. Nope, just an accident. A part of you was relieved that you weren’t the only scared one tonight.

Once you arrived at the park, you both meandered around a mass of trees. The leaves were a myriad of colors, crunching under your feet with each step. You always loved the change of the seasons. He took in a deep breath and exhaled his first sigh of content of the night.

“They don’t call it the Pine Tree state for nothing,” you said before leading him to the playground. He ran to the monkey bars, and asked you how many pull ups you thought he could do.

“Six,” you said, and he set himself to work. He grunted with every pull up, throwing you a strained smile as he did so. After the seventh pull-up, he jumped down, and you applauded. He bowed, his face red from the exercise. You walked up to him, seemingly growing more courageous throughout the night, and pulled him to the swing set. You both kicked yourselves to see who could go higher. He was genuinely laughing, not looking anything like the diffident man who just an hour ago was blushing over solid eye contact. You both slowed your pace, and just sat and talked about Gilead. It was a town of less than 1000 residents. Its most famous local landmark was the mass of unused land, tall wide woods made of scrub trees unusable for logging. The town was headed for a decline. Newcomers were nearly unheard of and most current residents were lifetime residents. The local diner was the heart of the town, where people came to gossip about their neighbors, who were returning the favor only several feet away. You knew word was spreading about Stan. People either suspected that he was a lost con on the run or just an idiot. Nobody ever willingly settled in Gilead. You filled him in on all of the town gossip, even about the diner owner’s son and his death in Vietnam. It really shook the town.

“Did you serve?” you asked. He had to be about your age, and with the war having technically ended over a year ago, it was probable that he was involved.

“No, I thankfully avoided all that,” he said, waving off the heartbreak the war brought with his hand. You nodded, accepting his answer.

“So what did you do in the meantime?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

“Then give me a loaded answer.”

He paused, raising his eyebrows at you and sighed. He told you nothing concrete, just that because of family reasons, he was alone from an earlier age than he should have been. He was obviously still very guarded about it, not ready to open up completely just yet, so you nodded again, accepting his answer for what it was.

“So, is that how you ended up here?” you asked, swiveling the swing from side to side.

“I don’t know how I ended up here, to be honest,” he admitted, “but I’m glad I did.” He reached his hand out for your shoulder, causing you to stop swiveling. He held solid eye contact, much more confident in his approach than before. The sincere contact of a man, preceded by a cheeseball statement, was practically foreign to you. You nearly melted at the touch. The playground fun was cut short when you both rushed back to his van. The van wasn’t ideal, but man, did you need it right now.

The pace and emotion of the kisses escalated quickly, sending you to absolute bliss. When at the swing set, he was unsure of whether to kiss you at first. You felt that burst of courage again and hopped off of the swing set, stood before him, tilted his head up and brought your lip to his. He was shy and tender at first, but it escalated to where you both found yourself in the backseat of his van, with you straddling him. He was blushing, a reaction you were surprised you gave him at all. He was sitting upright in the backseat. He craned his neck to kiss you. You accepted and explored him. Your hands ran over his chest, down his back, through his hair and anywhere else you could grasp him. His soft middle met yours, the contact bringing a scary reminder that he might want you to expose something you were deathly afraid of exposing to anybody. You felt his hands reaching your blouse. He was close to untucking it, and soon both hands were yanking it up and –

“No,” you breathed out, pulling your lips from his and your hands from his hair. They ran to your blouse to pull it back down again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head. It was your turn to blush.

“I’m,” you started and stopped once you thought about possible excuses. You’re what? Embarrassed? Oh God, he was going to laugh at you once he heard that. Not ready? You were definitely ready. You were ready since you first laid eyes on him. That wasn’t the word. You were…

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes at your newfound silence.

No.

“I’m fine. I’m just…” Silence again. He can’t know that you’re embarrassed. Over what? Him seeing you naked? _He’s interested in you; don’t ruin it_ , you scolded yourself. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with concern.

“Are you okay?” he repeated. His sincerity shined through again. You sighed, admitting defeat.

“Yeah, I’m just…I’m just afraid of you seeing me…and my body…all naked and all,” you grumbled out, your face contorting with each word. You nearly died on sight as you saw his face. He was chuckling. Oh my god, this was worse than you expected. You face strained with fear and he soon changed his reaction.

“No, no, no, no!” he said hurriedly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to him. He spoke quietly, his lips brushing against your ear. You tried to register it as calming. “Please don’t worry! I was laughing because I…I was afraid of the same thing,” he admitted, his breath hot on your ear. You shuddered. What did he have to worry about? Even if he was chubby, he was one of those guys who “made up for it” in so many other ways. If anyone was shallow enough to write him off for his weight, they would be missing out on the meek drifter who was sitting underneath you right now.

“I’m pretty sure we’re together in this department,” he said in a husky tone that caused a chill to go up your spine. “Don’t worry. I won’t do or see anything you don’t want me to,” he said, loosening his arms and moving his head so that you were now making eye contact again. You leaned in, kissing him more sweetly than before. He complied to the kiss, and when you pulled apart, he brushed your forehead with another kiss, his scruff scratching you. You both sat there for a moment, unsure of how to progress from here. Okay…. He was waiting for your cue.

“I’m…I’m ready,” you sighed out, looking down at him with hopeful eyes. He smiled warmly and grabbed the hem of your blouse again, looking back up for consent. You nodded, shifting so that he could help you before you pulled it over your head.

“Wow,” he said to himself, causing you to blush.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling more vulnerable than you expected.

“I’m pretty sure we have the same exact stretch mark right underneath our belly buttons,” he said, tracing the stretch mark lightly, which drew a snort from you. You gasped, embarrassed at the snort, which only made him burst into laughter. You collapsed into a fit of giggles on his chest, your embarrassment sliding as you saw a real sense of content from him.

He reached down for the zipper of your pants, which caused you to grab his wrist. He looked up at you, and retreated his hand, afraid he crossed a boundary.

“Can I…take your shirt off?” you offered, your face red, hands inches from the buttons. He smiled mischievously, inviting you to return the favor. Your fingers moved as fast as they could, eager to see what was underneath.

Hm.

He was right. You do have the same stretch mark under your belly button.

He wasn’t lying about you being in the same department. You both sat there, shirtless and staring in awe at each other’s bodies, rolls and all. You started to toy with his chest hair.

“You like that, huh?” he asked, tracing the curves of your waist, and situated his hands so that they were on your hips, and dug his hands in so that they were lightly massaging you. You grinned.

“I didn’t think there was more of you to like, Stan,” you said. His hair didn’t stop at his chest. You traced chest hair as it receded under his pecs and continued to grow through his happy trail. You stopped there, your hands in the radius around his belt buckle, unsure if that’s where your next venture should be. You looked up into his eyes to see that he was hoping you would go there. You grinned, getting a nod of approval as you undid his belt loop. You unzipped the zipper and he did you the favor of shimmying and pulling his pants down. And so you sat there, somehow still straddling a nearly naked Stan Pendelton. Insecurity still there, hindering you from making a concrete decision. His tighty whities were tented, which brought some delight to you. He reached for your pants again, unzipping them. You awkwardly moved off of him and sat to the side so that you could pull your pants off of him. Once you were just in your panties and bra, you re-straddled him.  

You smiled at him as you both sat there, anxious and pent up, in your underwear. His confident smile returned, making you blush, as he leaned in to kiss you. You gave in. The experience of nearly having sex in a car was foreign to you, you weren’t sure of the best way to ride him just yet without hitting your head on the ceiling. Thankfully local police were useless enough to where they didn’t feel the need to patrol parks like this, nearly guaranteeing you some privacy in this nearly public place. He sat back, allowing you to scooch into him more to lean down and kiss him again. This time it was full of trust, wholehearted mutual respect and feelings of willingness for intimacy returned. You reached behind, quickly unclasping your bra and throwing it to the side. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, he tried to pull them off, as awkward as it was, while still kissing you. He yanked with a too much force, ripping the underwear, and said a panicked “I’ll buy you a new one”. You disregarded it as a monetary issue, more turned on by his new sense of force, and turned to his crotch. His tented boxers were the next to go, exposing you to his erection.

“Condom?” you asked, surprised you didn’t speak up about it before. He panicked, his hands feeling around the car until he snapped and reached for the back pocket of the passenger seat. You took it from his hand, holding it in one hand, and looked back at him, both still shy of how to continue.

“Lube?” you asked, and he reached into the same pocket he retrieved the condom from, relieved to have something in its place for once.  _Christ, was this guy living in his car?_  you thought to yourself as you put the condom on and lubed up his member up, and looked at him with a feeling of anxiousness. As you incidentally rubbed his already hard cock, he audibly groaned, the first truly physical reaction you’ve received from him tonight. You mentally chuckled, and shifted yourself so that you were above his member, slowly allowing him into your entrance and giving yourself a moment to adjust to him. Its girth was one you were used to, though the length was a surprise. Once you were comfortable, you set forth to find your pace. He grabbed a hold of your hips once again, grunting with every buck, digging his nails into them. You leaned down on him again so that you were both gut to gut, chest to chest, and kissed him, much more sloppily this time. He moved down for your neck, sucking and biting, leaving a trail of marks.

Damn, turtleneck season was another month away. 

The pace was set, with you speeding up steadily, not wanting to somehow break him in your current settings. He groaned in frustration, thrusting his hips deeper into you, drawing a whimper from you. You felt a pang of worry about riding him at this moment, but quickly disregarded it. He’s a grown man, he can handle it, you thought to yourself. You pulled yourself closer to him. You felt the warmth of your combined body heat, his chest hair rubbing against you as you continued to buck. His breath was hitched, his voice was garbled. Your own voice was hard to find, small whimpers escaping and escalating as he moved his hands from your hips to cup your ass. He slapped your ass, eliciting a loud gasp, and he repeated, grinning at your sudden reaction. He grabbed your breasts and took one into his mouth and sucked on your already erect nipple with a pop, causing a loud whimper that was sure to easily wake the sleepy town. He nibbled at your nipple, and grinned against the tender skin as you wailed again. You held onto the headrests behind him, trying to anchor yourself as you sped up, causing him to groan against the breast in his mouth. His hands reached for your waist again, digging his nails into you and aiding you each time you slid back down. You felt yourself coming to the edge, your eyes losing focus as you reached your climax. You subconsciously cried out his name and soon felt him cum. He pushed you so that he was no longer inside of you and quickly pulled off the condom, tying it on the end. You moved to his side, collapsing in the seat next to him. He was breathing slowly, trying to regain his breath. After a moment, he fiddled around a bit in the backseat to try and find a blanket. He laid down, and patted his chest, welcoming you to join him. You unfolded the blanket and pulled it over the both of you as you laid down on him. You began to toy with his chest hair again, spelling out your name, the town’s name, his own. Just about every word you could think of…

“That was amazing, by the way,” he said, his eyes growing droopy as he brushed your forehead with a kiss. You smiled lazily as you fell asleep huddled in his van.


End file.
